


A Leafy Predicament

by gmartinez12



Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Biting, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Pheromones, Vines, boysex, humping, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16095902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmartinez12/pseuds/gmartinez12
Summary: A misguided decision to take on a mission way over his head gets Jon trapped by Poison Ivy, with Damian in tow. With few options left to them, Damian risks revealing their secret relationship in order to escape.





	A Leafy Predicament

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a fun little fic based on an idea from a friend. As always, took me ages to do lol. Hope you guys like it.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh and if you got a moment, and maybe some spare change, please consider showing your support by donating a coffee for $3 at my page:
> 
> **ko-fi.com/gmartineztheficwriter.**
> 
> If you really enjoy my fics (and I really hope you do) and kudos and comments aren't enough to express how hyped you are, ko-fi donations are a great way to show your love, too XD. It helps me pay my credit card bills and really motivates me to keep on providing content. And if I get any extra? I might even commission damijon art we can all enjoy. I'll keep writing stories for free don't worry, I love the super sons so much that all I want is to share the fandom with you guys. But yeah, if you like, ko-fi donations are super cool too :3
> 
> Also, if you wanna chat and say hi, my discord is gmartinez12#9930 :D

****

 

**A Leafy Predicament**

by gmartinez12

 

“I told you this was stupid,” Damian grumbled. He actually had to struggle to look annoyed due to the vine that was coiled around his neck.

“When was it ever stupid to help your dad? Poison Ivy is one of his most dangerous villains!” Jon protested from up above the cracked ceiling, where his whole body, save for his face, was covered with tendrils upon tendrils of green matter.

“Yes, Jon, emphasis on _dangerous,”_  Damian chided. “She once took over nearly the whole country and you rushed in here thinking the two of us could take her without backup.” He waved his one free arm around the overgrown room of the abandoned warehouse that they’d gotten captured in.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think plants were that much of a big deal,” Jon pouted.

“You just wanted to impress Batman,” Damian accused, more amused than upset.

“No I didn’t!” Jon retorted. Then after a few seconds of silence broken only by rustling leaves, he said, “Okay, fine. I wanted to impress your dad. Is that so wrong?”

“He doesn’t even know we’re together yet—why do you feel the need to impress him?” Damian said with a hint of irritation.

“I just thought he’d give us an easier time when we tell him, and not have to put up with anything like with Dick’s _safety lectures_ …” Jon replied, groaning at the memory.

“Or Todd’s need to remind us we’re too young to even have driver’s licenses let alone a shared bed…” Damian added helpfully.

“Or Tim’s drones following us everywhere,” Jon recalled somewhat fondly. “Man, those were the worst. Good thing Babara gave you those override codes.”

Damian attempted to nod in his constricted state, but all he managed was to look constipated.

“Unlike my brothers, Batgirl understands our need for personal space to do with each other as we wish.”

“Yeah…” Jon agreed. “So, got a plan yet?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “When have I never?”

 

**

The vines dragged them across the long hallway, their bodies bumping uncomfortably against each other and gnarled roots that stuck out at random intervals on the floor. Moments later, Damian and Jon were dumped at the foot of a large wooden throne that was shaped like a giant rose. The room they were in was large with a high ceiling, and sunlight streamed in through open skylights. The walls were covered with so much vegetation that they hardly resembled concrete walls at all. Mildew carpeted the floor and the air was scented with the aroma of sickly sweet overripe fruit.

With a terribly grating sound of flesh unwrapping a multitude of layers, the wooden throne’s petals bloomed to reveal Poison Ivy inside, sitting regally with her bare legs crossed and delicate-looking leaves covering her decency. She gazed languidly at the boys, though the arch of her brows betrayed her impatience.

“Just when I thought I’d snared actual heroes, I find little boys scurrying up my branches,” Ivy said balefully. 

“Watch who you’re calling ‘little’ Ivy, or I’ll turn you into the world’s most talkative garden salad!” Damian growled.

“Little boys are often so feisty…so destructive…” Ivy said dismissively. She waved her hand and the vines wrapped around Damian and Jon loosened until it bound only their wrists and ankles. Damian was forced into a kneeling position with his arms splayed in front of him. Jon meanwhile, was kneeling the same as he did, but had his hands to his eyes.

Judging by Ivy’s look of irritation at Jon, Damian deduced that Jon’s super-strength was working enough that it stopped the vines from pulling at his wrists. Damian had to wonder why Jon wanted to cover his eyes, though.

“You wear the colors of heroes.” Ivy gestured at their uniforms. She pointed at Damian and said, you’re Batman’s sidekick.”

“I’m no sidekick!” Damian seethed.

“You’re Superman’s kin,” Ivy said, pointing to Jon. “Child, why do you refuse to look at me?”

Damian saw the vines at Jon’s wrists twitch as if pulling them away from his face, but Jon was determined to keep his hands over his eyes.

“You’re…you’re n…” Jon stammered.

Ivy laughed haughtily at him.  “It’s okay to be scared, boy. The green should be feared.”

“Geez, Superboy, really?” Damian groaned loudly in exasperation. “He’s not afraid of you, Ivy,” Damian said to the woman in an almost apologetic tone.

“You’re naked!” Jon squeaked, his voice cracking slightly. “I can’t look at you like that!”

Ivy looked thoroughly confused. She turned to Damian, who shook his head as if to say ‘please excuse my partner for being such a baby’.

“Superboy, she has a leaf bra, she’s not naked!” Damian said in rebuke.

“That’s not proper underwear!” Jon insisted. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

“Do you boys always argue like an old married couple?” Ivy asked with an inquisitive look.

“Oh, I don’t know about married,” Damian replied nonchalantly. “He’s quite in love with stir-fry noodles.”

“What?” Ivy asked again, completely baffled.

“Anyway,” Damian continued, “Don’t you get cold, wearing nothing but leaves?”

“I…” Ivy started to say, but she stopped abruptly when a spit wad landed on her right breast. It was emitting a smoky trail of frost and then crystallized into a coat of impossibly cold ice.

Ivy screamed. As Damian had planned, Jon’s sub-zero loogie was enough to faze Ivy and for their bonds to be broken. The vines fell to the floor and Damian sprang into action, sharp blades springing out of his green leather gauntlets, a liquid nitrogen explosive in each hand. At the same time, Jon floated up, his face still red and raw from shame. At Damian’s command he blew out a cascade of frosty breath that froze vines in their place and rendered smaller tendrils lifeless and brittle. Ivy was soon covered in a sheet of ice.

 

 

 

“Who says freeze training is a waste now, huh?” Damian exclaimed in triumph.

“It was really more of me chewing my spit around my tongue, but, yea, sure.” Jon surveyed the icy damage around him. “Now let’s get out of here before this crazy naked lady gets….”

The ground around them shook and then large red bulbous pods burst from beneath them. The pods immediately began spewing a thick pink mist that surrounded the two boys, forcing them to gasp and cough.

“What is this?” Jon cried in a panic. He sneezed thrice in succession and sniffed as he tried to wave away the mist from his eyes.

“Ivy’s pheromones…” Damian said in a low voice. “Well, shit.”

“Language, Dami…” Jon said. His voice had begun to slow, with an odd hint of longing at the end. He put his hand over Damian’s mouth to stop him from swearing further, but then his touch was so light, and his fingers trailed on Damian’s skin, almost as if he was caressing Damian’s face. Jon had a glassy look in his eyes— Damian knew his partner was done for.

The ice wall ruptured and broke, revealing a very incensed Poison Ivy. Ivy lashed out at the rest of it in obvious annoyance, each whip of her commanded vines shattering the wall as if it was made of glass.

“No more playing around.” Ivy glared at the pair of them. “You’re both under my control now.”

“You may have gotten Superboy, but you won’t get me,” growled Damian. But in truth, he had to try very hard to not sound as inebriated as Jon looked.

“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” Ivy mused. She didn’t seem very bothered. “Batman must have given you something to resist me.”

Damian did have some form of resistance to Ivy’s pheromones. After one of his bigger fights with Ivy, Batman had formulated an antidote to her pheromones in case of the worst case scenario. However, it didn’t take instant effect and needed a regular dose to develop immunity. Damian had just started the regimen a few days ago. At the very least, he knew that it was enough to keep his mind from being completely being taken over by Ivy.

Sadly the same could not be said for Jon, who looked drowsy and drunk not unlike an alcoholic thrice his  age. Damian himself felt sluggish, and his body wouldn’t immediately respond to his desire to move unless it was something he didn’t have to think about, like breathing, and staring at Jon’s cute sleepy face for inordinate amounts of time. Damian considered if this was the kind of situation that should actually get him worried.

“Now then,” Ivy began, her lips curled into a cruel smile like withered leaves, “For daring to attack the green, I think it would be fair if I set your own friend on you, don’t you agree, boy?”

“No…no, I don’t,” Damian replied flatly.

“You, Superboy,” Ivy commanded. Jon turned slowly to look at her with half-lidded eyes. “Attack your friend.”

 Jon fixed his mesmerized gaze at Damian. His mouth ever so slightly smiled.

“Jon, before you do anything rash, I swear if we get through this we are eating noodles for dinner,” Damian said hastily.

Jon did not respond and instead just advanced on him.

“We’re going to eat all the noodles!”

Jon still didn’t respond. He raised a fist at Damian. Damian, acting with instinct, used his arms to block, but with his current sluggish state he doubted it would have done much. The next thing he knew, Jon had pushed him down on the ground, hard. Damian felt what was left of his breath leave him as Jon proceeded to pin him down by sitting on his waist.

 “Yes,” Ivy laughed acidly. “How does it feel to be laid low by your own ally?”

If Damian was honest with himself, it was strangely…arousing.  But he thought it would have been quite unbecoming to admit that in front of a villain, so he kept his mouth shut. Jon was looking down at him with an unblinking stare, and from Damian’s point of view the boy towered above him, radiating a sense of urgency—a sense of power. Jon dominated Damian in so many ways at this moment, and Jon couldn’t care less about such petty mundane matters like Damian’s feelings. Oddly enough, this role reversal between them, the abrupt change in Jon’s usually cheerful and childish demeanor into this unfeeling, powerful, half-conscious dominator absolutely titillated Damian. His powerlessness, his helplessness in the face of unflinching force, the fact that Jon could hold Damian down whatever Damian might try, this all coalesced into a scarily exciting sensation that pooled at the bottom of Damian’s gut. And, as loathe Damian was to admit it, he felt it even lower down to his crotch, where Jon’s butt was so firmly planted.

Suddenly, he knew what was happening.

At its core, Ivy’s pheromones destroyed a human target’s inhibitions, making them either highly suggestible or impulsive. Poison Ivy made sure to make her victims are the former so that she can control them, forcing them to do her bidding by adding dopamine—the pleasure hormone— into the pheromones if the victims obeyed. But Damian realized that impulsiveness can win out against Ivy’s manipulation—if someone had desired something so much and was so convinced that following impulse would give more pleasure than Ivy could, they would.

 Damian understood this when Jon swiftly leaned forward and mashed his lips against Damian’s mouth, hard.

“Mfff!” Damian gasped.

“Mhhhhm…!” Jon moaned.

“W—what…?” Ivy stammered.

Damian was helpless against the weight of Jon pressed against him, not that he tried to resist anyway. Jon locked his lips on him, sucking on Damian’s lips, grappling tongue to tongue. It was wild, fierce, wet, and passionate all at the same time. Everywhere around Damian’s mouth and even up to his button nose was coated with Jon’s spit, and lit by the heat of the younger boy’s breath. Damian had to make an effort to actually breathe because Jon gave him no quarter, devouring his mouth, and pressing his hands against each of Damian’s cheeks as if to say, “This is mine.”

 “This is…not the attack I had in mind,” Ivy said, looking away. A tiny green vine curled up her arm in a gesture that passed for leafy embarrassment.

Jon continued his oral assault, his tongue was a meticulous thief dead set on looting the inside of Damian’s mouth by leaving no surface unchecked or un-licked. It didn’t stop, even as moments of brief jarring pain mixed with the attack whenever their teeth grazed each other in their haphazard dance of unbridled lust. Damian’s tongue was Jon’s prey, and he was merciless in his assault yet passionate in his fervor. There was no grace or poise in the wanton kiss, just pure instinct, and a deep hunger inside Jon. He wanted more, more, _more!_

It was all Damian could do to gasp for breath. His senses were overcome with the feel of Jon, the scent of him, the _taste_ of him inside his mouth. At some fundamental level, he knew that his energy was being drained in his effort to keep up with the pace of Jon’s wild kiss, and his hands…his _hands!_ Jon’s hands felt like they were everywhere, from clutching at Damian’s hair, to wrapping his ribs in a tight embrace, to stroking his cheek. Damian was beside himself with…what was this, really? Love? Desire? Power? Perhaps it was all of these in one simple word— _need_.    He knew Jon felt the same way because as he’d expected, Jon’s hands had indeed gone lower, and lower, until it was pawing at the crotch of his uniform. In one burst of super strength, Jon tore the fabric apart, exposing Damian’s stiff boyhood to the open air.

“Are you seriously doing this here in front of me?” Ivy demanded shrilly. Neither of the boys paid any attention to her. She could’ve just as easily been talking to a tree, which, despite her claims otherwise, still did not enjoy the ability to talk back.

Damian moaned throatily, even as Jon’s mouth remained clamped on his. The still cool air—cooler because of the ice wall—stung his exposed rod, inexplicably making him even harder. All too soon it was wrapped in the velvety warmth of Jon’s hand, who, in his intoxicated state, didn’t have any compunction about roughly manhandling Damian’s man-handle. Damian flinched. His back arched and his toes curled in his boots as Jon stroked him off.

It was only then that Damian remembered or even noticed that Ivy was tersely attempting—and failing—to command Jon to stop, for decency’s sake.

“I said cease that!” Ivy shouted. “I order you!” While she tried to sound imperious, her voice had several tones of extreme discomfort woven in between.   

“Stupid boy! Stop your depravity at once!”  The red misty pheromones in the room increased in volume, as though Ivy thought more of it would compel Jon to obey her. All it did was give the room a red glowing hue to match the heat of the boys’ sensual play.

Damian also noticed that Jon’s hands and legs were loosely wrapped in torn vines, apparently Ivy’s attempt to physically pry Jon away from Damian, but the half- Kryptonian boy’s inhuman strength coupled with insane lust proved stronger than anything Ivy could do. He wondered why Ivy didn’t come over and grab Jon herself with her own two hands, but then it was apparent in her disgusted expression that she wasn’t about to touch either of them with a ten-foot vine.

Damian saw his chance. In the seconds that followed, Jon had torn off the front of his own jeans and was urgently humping the space between Damian’s thighs with his hard dick, already spewing an impressive amount of precum for a boy his age. Damian’s right hand stroked Jon’s cheek, flushed with the heat of their passion, and Jon instantly twisted his face to put one of Damian’s fingers in his mouth, sucking it as he continued to pound his hardness in Damian. With his left hand, Damian reached down and grabbed hold of Jon’s member. He tugged at it, forcing Jon to abruptly stop his frantic thrusting.

“Finally, he stopped…” Ivy muttered with a shudder.

She couldn’t see how much Damian was grinning. With the hand that he held Jon’s dick with, Damian moved his palm right over the sensitive, leaking tip, and rubbed. Jon’s glans grazed against the skin of Damian’s palm, its hypersensitivity tracing every groove and line along Damian’s hand. It was one of the things that they’d done before that Damian knew drove Jon absolutely _mad_ with pleasure.

Jon cried out a wordless plea, the marriage of a sigh, a squeak and a moan. It was low and throaty, a sound that would reverberate in your ears and send a shock to your spine all the way down to your toes—the sound of pure lust. Damian rubbed his palm across the head again and Jon practically thrashed in place, his body shivering with delight. Damian repeated the motion again slowly but methodically, not unlike a mason polishing a stone statue with one hand. Jon’s hardness might as well have been stone, one that pulsed with heat and slick fluids. Damian felt the pain in his finger that indicated his success. Jon had clamped his teeth down on the finger he’d been sucking, hard. In that instant, Damian ignored the pain and used that hand to angle Jon’s head so that he was looking directly at Ivy. Then Jon came.

One of the other things Damian knew from the times he and Jon had messed around was that the young boy still had a problem controlling his powers in three specific instances: when under duress, when he was emotional, and when he was climaxing during sexual play. A certain power almost always manifested unintentionally especially during sex—Jon’s heat vision. It came to a point that Damian had to take a crash course in repainting scorched ceiling panels in his bedroom just to hide the specifics of his and Jon’s sleepover activities. Jon almost always blasted lasers from his eyes when he gets a massive cum. Damian knew this. Ivy didn’t.

“Aaaah!” Ivy screamed. Jon’s heat vision was fired just as he climaxed, guided by Damian’s hand. The blazing beams cut across the foliage on the walls and traced a line between Ivy and the boys through the vine-ridden floor. 

  

The reason why the boys ruled out using heat vision in the first place was that plants were unfortunately very flammable. Any stray laser might end up burning everything and smoking them alive in Ivy’s hideout. But to Damian, they were left with little other options. One other benefit of a fire is the smoke. It made the boys cough and overpowered the pheromones, bringing Jon back to his senses and giving Damian the full use of his limbs again.

“D—Damian?” Jon called out between bouts of coughing. The air was already sizzling from the dozen or so small fires that crackled around them. “I kinda lost myself there…are you okay? Wait…oh man…your pants! What…my pants too!”

“It’s okay, Jon,” Damian said as he surreptitiously wiped the meager amount of boycum on his hand onto Jon’s cape—Jon didn’t notice. “The fires are blocking the pheromones. Do you remember what happened?”

“Kinda…” Jon said bashfully. “It’s a bit hazy but…yeah. I’m sorry I lost control and uhm…did stuff…”

“It’s fine,” Damian said dismissively as he wrung his hand out, the one with the finger Jon had bitten. His pointer finger still ached dully and was slightly swollen.  “This is the one time I’m glad you haven’t learned to control your powers yet. Ivy’s passed out from the smoke on a corner there. Grab her and let’s go!”

 

__

 

“Besides the obvious that you disobeyed my direct orders to not go after Ivy,” Batman began, his tone stern but also exasperated in a way that meant he’d had to give a lecture like this far too many times, “How exactly did you capture her?”

Damian and Jon were in the Batcave, their waists wrapped in towels provided by Alfred. Bruce insisted on debriefing them immediately, and he stood in front of them with his cowl off, all the worry lines on his face visible without anything to hide them. Tim Drake was at the Bat Computer, not at all attempting to hide how much he was snickering at the boys.

“I still can’t believe you guys flew with your bits hanging out like that!” Tim said, laughing almost to tears.

“It’s not like many people stop and stare at the sky at 1AM in the morning, Drake,” Damian retorted, but his cheeks were crimson just as well.

“ _Are_ there people out on the streets that late?” Jon asked worriedly. It was an honest question since he usually went to bed at 10PM like his mother always told him.

“Don’t worry, Jon,” Tim said. “Even if there were, there’s _little_ to see.”

“I hate you,” Damian replied, narrowing his eyes at Tim.

Bruce put a hand up,  instantly ending the brothers’ bickering.

“There are traces of Ivy’s pheromone pollen on you. By all accounts, you should have been under her thrall. How did you capture her?” Bruce insisted.

“We were, for a time,” Damian replied with a haughty tone. “But your antidote treatments for the pollen kept me lucid enough to devise a strategy with Jon to render Poison Ivy unconscious.”

“Hrm,” Bruce grunted. “Did your strategy involve burning an entire block of derelict warehouses? Because that’s what happened.”

“C’mon, Damian,” Tim chided. “You know I can’t put _‘Damian deus ex machina’_ on the case record here. Just gimme the details already. What sort of strategy are we talking about and what specific things did you do to take her down like that? What did you do to override her brainwashing? We can document it so that other heroes can use your strategy when dealing with her.”

“You…uhm…you can’t use our strategy,” Jon piped up in a small voice. He was resolutely staring at his sneakers to avoid any eye contact.

“Why not, Jon? This is important,” Tim replied.

Damian sighed. Jon covered his face with his hands because he knew Damian was about to tell them.

“Ivy’s pheromones got Jon and I to make out and stroke each other’s penises and in her surprise, she let her guard down and I made Jon cum to trigger his laser vision and set fire to the place,” Damian said as fast as he could without pausing to breathe. “In a word, we got gay. That enough for you Drake?”

Tim looked dumbfounded. He looked at Bruce. Bruce looked back at him with an equally speechless expression, his mouth slightly hung open in shock.

“Now, if we’re done here,” Damian snapped, his whole face almost as red as his costume, “Jon and I are leaving to die from embarrassment now, thank you very much.” He grabbed Jon’s arm and stormed out of the cave.

“Am I filing that?” Tim asked after a minute of silence.

Bruce gave him a non-committal grunt.

“I’m filing it,” Tim decided.

From then on, it was enshrined in the Bat Computer’s files that Damian Wayne was a boy of many talents. So talented in fact, that he could use the power of gay to save the day.

 

 


End file.
